Deormund stared at his son with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he absorbed the implications of Asculf’s words on greeting him.
“We will feast to celebrate your elevation to ealdorman. I am proud of you, my boy!” But his exuberant reaction could not conceal the sadness in his eyes.
“What is it, Father?”
“First, I lose Mistig to old age, now I lose my son to the king.”
“You can buy another deerhound, Father.”
“Ay, but it won’t be a patch on Mistig. And I cannot purchase another offspring.”
Asculf embraced his father. “It’s not as if I am going to the ends of the earth,” he consoled him. “Rochester is within an hour once you’ve crossed the Swale.”
“That may be true, Asculf, but how often do you think you will make that short journey to see your mother? She ever laments your absence.”
